This Is Halloween
by Silwyna
Summary: It's Halloween, John is out of town and Sam and Dean are out trick or treating. Things are fine, if it weren't for the supposedly haunted hause in the neighborhood. PreSeries. Sam is 6, Dean is 10.
1. Chapter 1

**A big thank you to Youngest Ones Rule for beta'ing this story. She made this story so much better! **

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**This is Halloween**

**by Silwyna**

"Sammy, come on. We gotta go." Ten year old Dean Winchester called for his brother from the other side of the school playground.

Sam looked over from the monkey bars he was hanging from; a wide smile spread across his face when he spotted his big brother. Jumping down, he ran toward Dean, picking up his backpack on the way.

"Hey, Dean. I got a star in Math." He beamed when he reached his brother.

"That's awesome, Sammy." Dean smiled, patting his brother's back proudly. He had quizzed his little brother for this test all weekend, not always voluntarily, as Sam's only focus for the whole time had all been math, but it had obviously paid off. He knelt down in front of Sam and pulled up the zipper of Sam's jacket and fixed his scarf. "Where's your hat?" He asked.

"I'm not cold." Sam insisted.

Dean scoffed. It was below 40 F° and Sam's cheeks were flushed from the cold. He raised an eyebrow and it didn't take longer than a second before Sam reluctantly pulled his hat from his bag. Watching smugly as his brother put it on, Dean pulled an arm around Sam's shoulder and started walking. "Let's go. Dad's making Pasta and I want to be home before it gets mushy."

"I'm hurrying." Sam nodded earnestly and started racing ahead.

"Okay, okay, I get it." Dean laughed, grabbing his brother's jacket and pulling him to a stop. "Don't worry, we'll make it in time."

Together, the brothers left the Rice Creek Elementary School behind and walked toward the small apartment they had been living in for the past two months. It was only a fifteen minutes walk and Dean had been able to convince his father to let them make the short walk alone instead of having their father pick them up every day. Dean made sure he and Sam always made it home in time, without exception; he didn't want to give his dad any reason for not to trust him. He was proud to be the only 10-year-old in his class who was allowed to walk the distance on his own.

"You think he's going to say yes?" Sam asked excitedly after a few minutes.

"Yes to what question?"

"You know." Sam drew the words out, rolling his eyes at his brother's ignorance.

"I have no idea what you're talking about, Sammy." Dean grinned.

"De-ean."

Laughing, Dean nudged his brother's side with his elbow. "We'll see what his mood is, okay?"

"He was in good mood this morning. He didn't even burn the toast." Sam pointed out optimistically.

"Yeah, well, we'll see." Dean replied vaguely. He knew Sam was looking forward to going trick or treating tonight, but he didn't want to get his brother's hopes up. Their father's mood could change from one moment to the next. A lot could have happened while they were in school. A new hunt, a bill that couldn't be paid, nosy neighbors – it didn't take much to dampen their Dad's mood. Then there was this time of year – in two days … his mother … it will be six years …

This time of the year was never easy for the elder Winchesters, yet Dean did his best to not let Sammy notice. His brother knew about their mom's death, of course, not all the details, just enough. Sam didn't remember, not like Dean and his father did. To him, it wasn't a memory to haunt his dreams. It was a story he had been told once, when his questions had become too much and their dad had sat down with him and gave him all the answers he could bare to share. Sam knew their mom had died in a fire, nothing more.

"Dean." Sam pulled his brother out of his thoughts as he tugged at his jacket. "We have to go on the other side." He whispered.

"Huh?" Dean looked up and then rolled his eyes. They were only a few feet away from 65 Lincoln Road, an old, vacant three-story house that – according to his fellow students – was haunted by the former owner, a grouchy old lady, who every Halloween tried to lure kids into her house to kill them. Dean had told his Dad about it – after all, you could never be too careful. His Dad had assured him though that there was nothing to the story. There had been no reported murders in the street during the last ten years, so the house was safe. Dean had forgotten all about it then.

That was, until Sam's classmates had picked up the story as well and had shared it with his little brother. Since that day, Sam was reluctant to go by the house. Dean had done his best to prove to his brother that it was just a story, not a real haunting, but for all the bogus stories Sam had believed him over the years, this time he refused to do so.

So for the last two weeks, every time they neared the old house, Sam made him go to the other side of the street until they had left the house behind. It was annoying, but Dean hadn't yet found a way to deny his little brother, when Sam pleaded with him using those big brown eyes.

"It's just a house, Sammy." He groaned.

Sam kept looking at him with these puppy dog eyes of his and with another eye-roll, Dean took his hand in his, checked the street for any cars, and walked with his brother in tow to the other side of the road.

"You know, if Dad knew about this, he'd make you go _into_ the house, not just pass it on the same side of the street." Dean said.

"You promised you wouldn't tell him." Sam looked at him wide-eyed.

"Yeah, yeah, I know. I'm just saying."

They walked in silence for a little while, Dean became lost in his own memories again, when Sam pulled him out of his thoughts.

"You think we should tell him?"

"Tell who what?" Dean asked dumbfounded.

Sam gave him the look that said he expected Dean to know exactly what he was talking about.

"What?" Dean shrugged.

"The house, Dean. Maybe Dad could do something about it." Sam whispered conspiratorially, as if he was afraid the house's spirit could overhear them.

Dean swallowed down a lump in his throat. Sam didn't know anything about what their father was doing. Or did he? "What do you think he could do about it?" He asked warily. The darn kid was getting smarter every day.

Sam shrugged. "I don't know. He could … he could call someone to catch the ghost."

"Catch the ghost?" Dean chuckled, relieved that obviously, Sam knew nothing.

"Yeah, like the Ghostbusters. I bet Uncle Bobby could do it."

Dean shook his head as he tried to follow his brother's thoughts. "You think Bobby is a Ghostbuster?" He had stopped calling the older man "uncle" about a year ago, having declared himself to be old enough to be treated as an adult. Of course Bobby had just shrugged it off, saying that he didn't care one way or the other. Dean hadn't missed the glint of joy in his eyes though when Sam had continued to call him "Uncle Bobby".

"He has all kinds of ghost books in his house. He could be one." Sam replied.

Dean nearly stumbled over his own feet and stared at Sam in surprise. "How do you know what kind of books Bobby has in his house?"

"I read part of one."

"You …" Dean bit his lip. He knew that teaching his brother how to read early would kick him in the ass some day. "Don't … don't go near any of his books, okay?"

"Why not?"

"Because … because they're grown-up books." Dean stated.

"But Uncle Bobby gave it to me."

"He gave you one of his books to read?" Dean asked exasperated.

"Yeah. He said I could look at the pictures, but not to color in it. I don't think he knew I could already read." Sam added proudly. "But I could."

"Yeah, obviously." Dean sighed. "It doesn't matter though. Bobby isn't a _G__hostbuster_. They just exist in the movie."

"You sure?" Sam asked disappointed.

"Absolutely."

"But who takes care of ghosts then?"

Dean didn't know what to say. He wanted to assure his little brother that ghosts weren't real, that there was no reason to be afraid; but he couldn't do that, could he? He _knew_ ghosts were real and many other bad things as well. One day Sam would know too. Once their dad decided Sam was old enough; he would tell him all about it, and then Sam would know he had lied.

This was a pain Dean couldn't bear. Till this day, he hadn't dared to admit to his little brother that even Santa was a lie. He needed Sam to believe in him and to not be scared – because if he didn't, then Dean was afraid that the only good thing in their lives would just disappear with it. He needed Sam to believe for them both.

"Dean?" Sam looked at him expectantly, waiting for an answer.

"The police." Dean cleared his throat. "Um, it's some kind of secret department, you know?"

"Like the CIA?" Sam whispered.

"Yeah, yeah, exactly. Like the CIA." Dean breathed out in relief. He hoped it would satisfy his brother … for as long as possible.

When Sam didn't bring the subject up again, he thought he had been successful.

---SPN---

When Dean stepped into their apartment and smelled only stale air, he immediately knew something was up. No Pasta.

"Dad?" He called, letting their father know they were home.

"I'm hungry." Sam stated, slipping out of his jacket, cap, scarf and backpack already lying in a heap on the floor. Before Dean could stop him, he ran into the kitchen.

Sighing, Dean followed him, ignoring his own grumbling stomach. He'd been ignoring it all afternoon. Social Studies had been hardest! Maybe he should have better spend his lunch money on, well, lunch.

"Dean?" Sam stood in the middle of the small kitchen, staring at his brother with wide, disappointed eyes. "We're too late."

"I don't think so, Sammy." Dean sighed.

Before he could say anything else, John stepped into the kitchen as well. "Good, you're back."

"Hey, Dad." Dean looked warily at his father and the duffel bag he was carrying.

"I'm hungry." Sam complained from behind him.

"I've put some money on the counter, so you can order some pizza. Travis called, he's two towns over and needs help with a case." John explained.

"Okay." Dean nodded.

"Are you leaving?" Sam asked.

"Just for the night, Sammy. I should be back tomorrow afternoon." John said.

"But …"

"Sammy." Dean glared at his little brother.

"You listen to your brother." John said sternly. "I don't want to hear any complaints when I get back."

"But …" Sam bit his lip as if thinking about whether he should continue or not.

Dean glared at him and when Sam looked at him with a stubborn expression, he knew his brother wouldn't stay quiet.

"What about Halloween?"

Dean rolled his eyes. "Sam, shut up."

"What about it?" John asked.

"We were gonna go trick or treating."

John looked confused between his two sons, too stunned to say anything for a moment. "We never go trick or treating."

"We could this year." Sam said hopefully.

"Sam, let it go." Dean tried to pull his brother back. "It's okay, Dad. I got this."

"But Dean, you promised." Sam whined.

"I didn't."

"You did."

"Did not."

"Did too."

"Did not."

"Did …"

"Boys!" John barked.

The brothers immediately stilled and looked sheepishly at their father.

"Dean?" John looked at his eldest, waiting for an explanation.

"I said …" Dean quickly glared at his brother. "… that I would _ask_ you if I thought that … uh …"

"If?"

"If you were in the right mood." Sam jumped in helpfully.

Dean wanted to strangle him.

John raised a brow. "Really?"

"What I meant was … I … " Dean stuttered, trying to find the right words.

"I have to go now." John brushed his boys off, not having the time or patience to deal with their needs now. "I want you boys to stay inside. And don't stay up too late, you both have school tomorrow." He was moving quickly, finishing the packing of his bag.

"But Dad …"

"Sam, you heard what I said." John said sternly.

"Can't we just go for an hour? Before it turns dark?" Sam pleaded.

"Sam …"

"I want to wear my costume. Please, Daddy."

"You have a costume?" John asked perplexed. His actions ceased.

"Dean made it." Sam replied proudly. "I'll be a ghost."

Dean blushed and looked sheepishly at his father. "I just cut a hole in a blanket." He mumbled embarrassed.

"Really." John said. "And what is _your_ costume?"

"I'm too old for that." Dean stated dignified.

"He's a secret agent. Like you, Dad." Sam grinned happily.

"Shut up, Sam." Dean groaned.

"Secret agent?" John raised a brow at his son.

If possible, Dean blushed even more.

"Please, Daddy." Sam was using his puppy dog eyes on his father now.

Like his eldest son, John wasn't immune. Obviously his sons had planned this for some time and were looking forward to it. And there wasn't really any harm in it, was there? It was a lively neighborhood. The streets would be filled with people. And John had trained Dean well enough to trust him to know what to look for. It would be fun and Sam had never really experienced Halloween before. It would also save him money on treats. They deserved this.

There was no reason to not allow them to go. This was a night like any other.

Except it wasn't. It was Halloween and this night was destined to attract every spirit and evil creature in the neighborhood.

When he saw both his sons looking at him hopefully, Sam more openly than Dean, he couldn't help but give in. "All right. One hour. And you'll be home before six! And …"

"Thank you!" Sam cried out happily, throwing himself at his father and wrapping his arms around him.

Dean had a wide grin plastered on his face.

John unwrapped Sam's arms from his waist and knelt down in front of him, looking him intently in his eyes. "You stay at your brother's side, understood? You don't move away from him."

"Yes, Sir." Sam beamed.

John glanced at his eldest expectantly.

"Understood, Sir." Dean said happily.

"Fine." John sighed. "I'll call you from Travis' place. You better be back home by then."

"We will." The brothers shot out in unison.

John nodded. He didn't like it. But he couldn't keep his sons cooped up inside all the time. He needed to let loose every once in a while. If only it wouldn't be this hard.

---SPN---

John was ready to go. The house was secured and the Impala packed. He had given Dean the usual instructions and had told Sammy to listen to his brother. All he needed to do now was start the car's engine.

The only problem was that his youngest had made himself comfortable in the Impala's passenger seat, looking at his father with expectant eyes.

"Sammy, if this is you behaving, I might have to reconsider your Halloween trick or treating." John sighed.

"I'm behaving." Sam shot out quickly. "I just have to tell you something really important." He added in a whispered voice.

"And what is that?" John asked with a raised brow.

"It's about old widow Daisy." Sam went on in his conspiratorial tone. "She's going to kill someone tonight."

John looked at his youngest perplexed. "Who is widow Daisy?"

"She lives in this old house. We walk by it every day from school. It's _haunted_." Sam said earnestly.

John groaned, remembering where he had heard that name before. "Did Dean tell you about this?" He would have to have a serious talk with his eldest when he was back.

"No." Sam shook his head. "Dean doesn't believe it's true. But I know it is."

"Do you." John said dryly. "Look, Sammy, I really don't have time for this right now. We can talk about it when I'm back."

"But Dad, she's going to kill someone else tonight. She does so every Halloween."

"That's just a story, Sammy. It's not true." John assured him. "And if it were true … what do you think I could do against a ghost?" He'd asked the last question warily, almost afraid of the answer. He kept waiting for the day that his youngest would find out everything about the world they were living in. He had been shielding him from it all for so long– he wasn't sure if he was ready to lose the last part of innocence this family had left.

"You can catch him. That's what secret agents do, right?" Sam replied, looking at his father with the kind of hero worship he usually reserved for his big brother.

John felt a huge lump build in his throat. "I'm not a secret agent, Sammy."

"I know I'm not supposed to know. Don't worry, Dad, I won't tell anyone."

"Sam …"

"Can you catch her, Daddy?"

"Sammy, listen. This story of that woman haunting the house and luring in kids to kill them … it's not true. It's just a story." John said sternly, looking intently at his son.

"But …"

"No but, Sam. Ghosts, they're not …" He swallowed and cleared his throat. He needed Sam to believe this. Just a little while longer. "They're not real. They're just stories to scare little kids like you and your friends. And I'm not a secret agent." He added as an afterthought.

"But …" Sam looked at him, disappointment displaying on his face. "But you're always gone. I thought …"

"That's because of my job. One day, you'll understand."

Sam stayed silent for a while, looking thoughtfully down at his hands. After a few minutes he looked up at his father again. "You sure about ghosts? Because that house feels creepy."

"I'm sure, Sammy. You trust me, right?"

Sam nodded.

"Good. Now don't worry about it any longer. Go back inside and have a fun evening with your brother. Okay?"

"Okay." Sam nodded.

"Good boy." John smiled, ruffling his son's hair. "Now get out of this car."

"Bye, Dad." Sam hesitated a moment, then threw himself at his father once more and gave him a tight hug.

Swallowing down another lump in his throat, John returned the hug, reveling in the closeness with his son – a closeness that he experienced way too seldom with both of his boys.

"Love you, Daddy." Sam said; he gave his father a quick kiss on the cheek before he jumped out of the car and ran into the house.

John cleared his throat and quickly wiped a tear from his eye. Sometimes the love he felt for his children seemed too much to hold in. In moments like this, he wished he could give them a normal life. He wished he could get out of the car and go back to his sons, enjoy the evening with them together. Protect them. Keep them save.

But that's the reason he was leaving. To get rid of the evil that might one day turn against one of his children. This was his way of protecting them.

Taking a deep, determined breath, John started the car and drove away.

TBC


	2. Chapter 2

**A.N.: Thank you to everyone who reviewed. Your words mean the world to me! A huge thank you to Youngest Ones Rule for beta'ing this story. You are in incredible beta!**

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**Chapter 2**

The street was filled with children; all dressed up like ghosts, cowboys, little monsters, princesses – everything imaginable and more. Sam proudly carried his costume – a white long blanket, hanging over his shoulders, the bottom sliding over the ground. His face was painted white, dark circles lined his eyes. When Dean was finished with Sam's face, he was more than happy he'd spent his lunch money on Halloween Make-up instead of food.

Sam looked like the perfect ghost.

Their bags were already half full with candy; even though Dean had refused to wear a costume (though to anyone who asked, he was a super secret agent), he hadn't wanted to leave the house with just one bag. Tonight's actions weren't just about Sam – Dean wanted his share from tonight's prey. You were never too old for chocolate and with both of them carrying bags; it meant the double the candy. He was already looking forward to plopping down in front of the TV, watching some horror movie with Sam, and eating chocolate until they puked.

There was so much more fun to be had tonight!

"Hey Dean, where's your costume? You miss the give-away pile at Goodwill?"

Laughter followed the words and with a suppressed groan, Dean turned around to meet three of his fellow students, Todd, Mike and Stevie. All three boys were dressed in different, obviously expensive store bought costumes.

"You got a problem?" Dean asked, taking a step forward and blocking his brother's view of the three boys in front of them.

"Problem? Me? Nah … I'm not the one running around in bedding." Todd grinned.

"I'm a ghost." Sam piped up from behind Dean and leaned around his brother's body.

"Don't talk to them, Sammy." Dean said, pushing him back behind him so he was standing between the three boys and his brother.

"Yeah, don't talk to us, Sammy." Mike mimicked the older Winchester.

Dean glared at him angrily, his hands curled into fists. For two months now he had to listen to these idiot's stupid remarks. He had done his best to ignore them, but this was the first time Sammy was involved – and he wasn't going to let those jerks insult his little brother, or his father for that matter.

"Come on Dean, we're just having a nice conversation here. So, _Sammy_, you're a ghost? Like old widow Daisy?" Todd had bent to the side to get a better look at the smaller boy.

"Old widow Daisy isn't a ghost." Sam replied, stepping out from behind Dean again.

"Sam." Dean glared at him, pulling his brother back again.

"Oh really?" Todd smirked. "And how do you know that?"

"My Dad said so." Sam said proudly. "He knows everything."

Dean groaned and rolled his eyes. "Listen guys, it was nice talking to you, but we gotta go. There are still some houses and candy waiting for us."

"What about old Daisy's house? You going there? Maybe she has something nice for you too." Todd said, his friends once again laughing at his words.

"Why bother?" Dean shrugged.

"Why don't you just admit it?" Todd asked.

"Admit what?" Dean bites.

"Just admit you're afraid to go in there." Todd teased him.

"Dean's not afraid of anything." Sam said offended, appearing at his brother's side again.

"Sammy, shut up." Dean groaned. He tried to push Sam back again, but his little brother was determined to stay next to him this time.

"Is that so?" Todd grinned, obviously satisfied with where the conversation was going. "Don't you think he should prove that to us?"

"I don't have to prove anything to you." Dean replied.

"Have you been inside?" Sam asked.

Dean looked at him surprised, even more so when he saw nothing but innocent curiosity on his brother's face. Sam must still think this was a conversation between friends.

"Sure I have." Todd grinned.

"And did you see the ghost?" Sam wanted to know, his voice growing eager.

Todd huffed. "Of course, I decorated her living room with a few rotten eggs." He laughed loudly. "She tried to catch me, but I was faster. I tricked her and was out in no time."

Sam tilted his head to the side and frowned at the older boy. "I don't think I believe you."

"You calling me a liar?" Todd called out insulted.

"My Dad said ghosts aren't real." Sam stated.

Dean looked at him with a frown. Had their dad really said it?

"Well, then your Dad is wrong." Todd said mockingly.

"He's not."

"He's too."

"He's not."

"He's too."

"Hey!" Dean barked; suddenly he had a pretty good idea how their dad must feel when he and Sam went at it. "Leave my brother alone, will you? He doesn't need to hang around such cowards like you. Come on, Sammy, let's go."

"Who you calling a coward here, Winchester?" Todd said angrily, grabbing Dean at his arm.

With a quick motion, Dean freed himself and Todd landed on the ground.

"Don't you ever dare touch me again." Dean hissed through gritted teeth. "And stay away from my brother."

"Yeah, stay away from us." Sam said, his hands on his waist. He looked daringly at the other boys.

"Hey, Todd, why don't you and Dean both go inside and we see who holds out longer? Winner take all." Mike suggested, gesturing to the two candy bags.

Dean rolled his eyes. "We don't have time for this shit."

"You afraid?" Mike said mockingly.

"Afraid of a house? I don't think so." Dean huffed.

"Well, then …"

"Shut up, Mike." Todd said, his voice suddenly sounding hoarse. "He's too afraid to go inside."

"Oh, I'm afraid?" Dean laughed, having picked up on the fear in Todd's voice. "Have you looked inside a mirror lately? You look like you've just seen a ghost."

"Maybe he's afraid of me." Sam grinned.

"Yeah, that must be it, Sammy." Dean agreed.

Todd looked angrily at the two of them. "You know what? We'll see who's the coward here. Let's go inside, Winchester! Just you and me. I bet you won't hold out longer than five seconds."

Dean bit his lip, not sure what he should do now. He wasn't afraid to go inside the house. His Dad had cleared the place, there was no danger there. What was he supposed to do with Sammy though? He couldn't leave him outside with the other jerks. And taking him with him? Just a few hours ago, Sam hadn't even wanted to go past the house out of fear of old widow Daisy. Giving in to these jerks and letting them believe he was afraid didn't sit right with him either though. They'd never let him live this down and things would get even worse at school. Not something he looked forward to.

"If Dean goes, so do I." Sam suddenly stated from beside him. He looked at his brother to confirm his statement. "Dad said I wasn't supposed to leave your side."

Once again, Dean looked at him in surprise. "You sure?"

"Yeah." Sam nodded.

Dean didn't have to think long about what to do next. He would have hugged Sam if the three imbeciles wouldn't have been there. No way was he letting them watch that. Of course, if they weren't there, he wouldn't have the need to hug Sam, but he wouldn't dwell on that now. "Okay. Let's go. But I'm not staying in there forever. We have to be home at six, so if neither of us leaves before a quarter to six, we call it a draw."

"You're already covering your bases, Dean?" Stevie grinned.

Dean only raised a brow in return. "Do we have a deal?"

Todd nodded determinedly. "Deal."

They shook hands on it and then together, with Sam in tow, walked across the street toward old widow Daisy's house.

---SPN---

Dean swallowed as he stood in front of the house. From here it looked even scarier than from the sidewalk. Suddenly he could understand his brother's fear of coming too close to the old building.

But Sam wasn't afraid anymore, was he? So Dean didn't need to be either. Their dad had checked the house, right? His dad had said so. Which meant that, apart from their own apartment, this house was probably the safest place in the neighborhood right now. So there was nothing to worry about. Dean smiled at the advantage.

"Let's go inside." He said, confident that the house would held no danger for them.

"Yeah." Todd nodded slowly, but didn't move.

Dean cast him a short glance, then took a deep breath and walked the last few steps towards the door. Sam stuck to his side as promised.

He reached for the door knob and was surprised to find the door unlocked. Apart from an eerie sounding squeak, it opened without problem. As he stepped over the threshold, he felt Sam's hand slide into his own. He squeezed it and gave his brother an encouraging smile. "You good, Sammy?"

"Mhmm." Sam nodded, tightening his grip on Dean's hand.

"There's no need to be afraid." Dean said.

Slowly they walked into the dark room. The soiled windows did not let in much light.

"So, you afraid yet?" Todd asked from behind.

Dean smirked satisfactorily when he heard the shiver in the other boy's voice. With a grin he turned around and looked tauntingly at Todd. "Why, are you?"

Todd huffed. "Yeah, right. Nothing scary in this dump."

In that moment, the front door slammed shut behind them. Todd whirled around and all three boys stared startled at the closed door. Every fiber in Dean screamed at him to check the door to make sure he'd be able to open it without problem, but he didn't want to look scared in front of Todd, so he stayed where he was.

"Ow, Dean, my hand." Sam cried out.

Startled, Dean let go of his brother's hand. "Sorry, Sammy." He mumbled. He hadn't even noticed how he had tightened his grip.

"Must have been the wind." Todd mumbled, pointing at the door.

"Yeah." Dean nodded.

"What do we do now?" Sam asked.

Dean had no idea. He hadn't really planned that far. He looked questioningly at Todd, but the other boy seemed determined to just stay where he was.

"Dean?" Sam tugged at his brother's shirt.

"I don't know, Sammy." Dean shrugged. "I guess we wait until Todd here decides to chicken out and …"

A sudden drop in the temperature made the words freeze in the air. A very bad feeling formed in his gut. He took Sam's hand again and pulled his brother closer to his side. "Stay next to me, Sammy."

"Man, it's freezing in here." Todd said.

"Yeah, maybe we should …" Dean stopped when he saw Todd's eyes suddenly go wide and staring at something behind them.

"Dean?" Sam asked, his voice sounding scared; Todd's horrified stare hadn't gone unnoticed by him either.

Dean stood stock-still, his mind reeling. The house was safe. There was no ghost. It was just a story. His Dad had checked it. The house was safe. There was no ghost. Just a story. His Dad had …

He nearly jumped when Todd suddenly started screaming and bolted toward the door. He pulled at the knob with all his might, but the door wouldn't open. Scared and frustrated, he hammered against the wood. Dean was just about help him, when something grabbed him from behind and flung him across the room. He cried out in pain as he slammed against something hard.

"Dean!" Sammy yelled.

Dean shook his head to clear his mind and frantically searched the room for his brother; a moment later his eyes fell on Sam lying on the other side of the room. Sam stared at him with wide eyes. Tears brimmed in his eyes and he rubbed his left arm.

"Sammy!" Dean scrambled off the ground and quickly ran to his brother. "Are you hurt?" He asked as he knelt down in front of him.

"Yes." Sam sniffed.

"Is it bad?"

Sam sucked back his sobs while shaking his head. "I don't think so."

"Good. Come on, we need to get out of here. Todd, come on!" Dean yelled.

"The door won't open." Todd cried.

"We'll break one of the windows, just grab something …"

A howling wind rushed through the room and the window shutters slammed shut from the inside, sinking the room into complete darkness.

"Damn." Dean muttered. "Come on." He grabbed Sam's good hand and started running out of the room. He could hear Todd following them, but at the moment he couldn't care less about the other boy.

"Where are you going?" Todd called after them.

"The kitchen – d'you know where it is?" Dean stopped short and looked hopefully at the other boy.

Todd looked surprised. "How am I supposed to know?"

"You've been in here before." Dean stated dryly.

Todd paled and started stuttering. "I … um …"

"I knew it." Dean huffed. Ignoring anything else Todd might have to say, he turned around and started running down the hall. There had to be a kitchen somewhere close.

A few moments later he found what he had been looking for. Immediately, he started searching the cabinets.

"You're looking for food? Now? And here? That's disgusting." Todd said. "I figured you guys were poor, but …"

"I'm looking for salt, you idiot. Maybe there's still some here." Everything Dean had seen of the house so far indicated it hadn't really been cleared out. Pictures were still hanging on the walls; furniture was mostly still intact. Maybe they were lucky and … "Yes!" He called out, holding a carton of salt in front of him.

"How is that going to help us?" Todd asked, looking at Dean as if he was the biggest idiot on earth.

Dean returned the same look. "It's protection against ghosts. Don't you know anything?"

"Dean, it's getting cold again." Sam said.

Indeed the temperature had fallen.

"Come on, we all gotta get inside the circle." Dean quickly began dispersing the salt on the floor around his brother, leaving enough room for him and Todd to stand inside the salt circle as well. "Todd, come on!"

"That's not going to …"

"It will, trust me. Now get in!" Dean barked.

Todd took a step back at Dean's tone, but then followed his order and stood next to Sam. Dean closed the circle just as he noticed the mistake he'd made. He should have made the circle with him inside, not on the outside.

The thought flashed through his mind one moment too late. He was once again grabbed from behind and thrown across the room. His head collided with the hard stone wall; the last thing he heard was Todd's scream and his brother calling his name. Then his world went black.

TBC


	3. Chapter 3

**A.N.: Thank you all for your wonderful reviews. They mean the world to me! A huge thank you to Youngest Ones Rule for beta'ing this story! **

* * *

When Dean came to, the first thing he became aware of was a quiet crying somewhere close. It wasn't Sam though who was crying, Dean knew that instantly, so he relaxed and concentrated on his own pains for the moment.

He hurt. He had a pounding headache and as he moved his fingers along his skull he discovered a big lump on the back of his head. When he moved, he felt pain spread down his spine. Groaning, he let his hand fall back to his side. He wanted nothing more than to fall back into oblivion, let the darkness take the pain away.

But there was this nagging urgency at the back of his mind and he knew going back to sleep wasn't an option. He tried to remember what had happened.

He had been with Sam, that much he knew. It wasn't hard remembering that, because he was always with Sam.

The crying permeated again through the painful haze and Dean remembered he and Sam hadn't been alone. Todd had been with them. Together they had gone into old widow Daisy's house.

That's when it all came back. The spirit had attacked them. He made the salt circle but had been outside the circle. Then he recalled the feeling of being pulled back by an invisible force and Sam's cry.

SAM!!!

His eyes flew open when he realized he heard only Todd's cries, no other noise. There was no sound from Sam. His eyes scanned the room until he saw the salt circle – but the only boy sitting inside was Todd. The older boy had his knees pulled up to his chest, slowly rocking back and forth and crying. Sam was nowhere to be heard or seen.

Dean jumped up from the floor, ignoring his own pain. "Sam?" He called out loudly.

No other sound but Todd's cries met his words.

He ran toward Todd and jerked the older boy's arm. "Where's Sam? What happened?" He asked urgently.

Todd raised his head and looked at Dean through bleary eyes. "Dean?"

"Where's Sam?"

Todd swallowed, shivers running down his body. With a sob he wiped at his face and eyes. "She got to him."

Dean froze. "She? Daisy's spirit?"

Todd nodded, tears flowing anew.

"How? You were both in the circle!" His eyes went over the salt line, checking for anything he might have overlooked, but the circle was intact.

Another sob escaped Todd's throat. "All of a sudden she was in front of us and I … I stumbled back … into him. I didn't mean to … I think I pushed him out of the circle." Todd's cries intensified and he looked pleadingly at Dean. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to … I just … I just wanna go home."

Dean clenched his hands into fists. The urge to hit the older boy was almost overwhelming, but first he had to find Sam.

"Come on, we gotta find him." He got up and looked expectantly at the other boy. The least Todd could do was help him find Sam. The possibility of facing Daisy again would have to be punishment enough – for now.

Todd stared at him terrified. "What about old Daisy?"

"She has Sam!" Dean replied, as if that explained everything. To him, it did.

Todd shook his head. "No, she … she'll get me if I get out of here."

"Damn it, Todd!" Dean hit his leg with his fist, suppressing the urge to push his fist into Todd's face. "Where did she take him?" He growled his question through clenched teeth.

"She pulled him into the hall."

Dean didn't wait for him to say more. As fast as he could, he ran out of the kitchen after his brother. "Sam! Sammy!"

"Dean!" Sam's call was followed by a painful cry and a clatter, coming from the living room.

Quickening his steps, Dean raced down the hall into the living room. Breathing heavily, he quickly took in the situation. He saw Daisy in the middle of the room, staring widely at Sam lying on the floor. Dean was already close to freaking out when he spotted drops of blood on his brother's costume. He wanted nothing more than to run forward and put himself between Sam and the spirit, but he needed to find something with which he could fight old Daisy. His eyes fell on the chimney and, more importantly, the fire iron lying in front of it on the floor. Pure iron – just what he needed. He had to remember to thank his dad later for teaching him these things.

Careful not to attract the ghost's attention, he crept slowly along the wall. He didn't dare breathe until he'd reached the chimney and his hands folded around the iron. A small smile spread on his lips as his grip tightened around his new found weapon. It lasted just a moment. His confidence vanished as ghostly tendrils grabbed his arms and flung him through the room.

Once again, Dean hit the wall full force, the pain in his back flaring up once more. He cried out, but didn't let go of the iron.

"Dean!"

Dean blinked and forced himself to ignore the pain. After tightening his grip on the iron, he launched himself at the spirit, a wild roar escaping his lips. With one blow he swung the iron at the ghost, which then evaporated into thin air before Dean's eyes.

Dean stared at the empty spot in front of him; he could hardly believe that he had won against Daisy. Suddenly a small bundle threw itself into his arms.

"Sammy." Dean wrapped his arms around his brother, holding him close. As his brother sobbed into his shoulder, he gently rubbed his back. "It's okay, Sammy, it's okay. Are you hurt?"

Sam's head bopped up and down and Dean felt new anger well up in him. No one had the right to hurt his little brother.

"I wanna go home." Sam sobbed.

Dean nodded. "I'll get you home, Sammy. I'll get you home."

---SPN---

Getting home wasn't as easy as Dean had thought. Even though the spirit was gone, the door was still locked. The same went for the windows. They were still trapped inside the house.

"What are we gonna do now, Dean?" Sam asked scared, looking as if his big brother knew all the answers in the world.

Dean swallowed. Sam trusted him to get them out of this. He had trusted him enough to follow him inside this cursed house, and now Dean had no idea how to get him out of here.

The truth was he was as terrified of all this as Sam was. He wanted nothing more than to crawl into some corner and cry for their Dad to save them, but their Dad wasn't here. It was all up to him.

"Dean?"

"We gotta get back to the kitchen. Come on." Dean took Sam's hand and pulled his brother, running as fast as his brother's shorter legs would allow.

He ran a bit faster as he felt the temperature drop.

"It's coming back." Sam cried out. He'd felt it too.

"I know. Come on!" Dean tightened his grip around the iron as he ran toward the kitchen. Once there, his eyes fell on Todd who was now standing in the middle of the circle.

"You found him." The older boy called out relieved.

Dean only glared at him angrily.

"You pushed me." Sam stated, looking at him accusingly. There was anger in his little voice.

"I … I didn't mean to. I'm sorry." Todd swallowed and looked pleadingly at the two boys to forgive him.

Dean huffed, grabbed Sam's hand and moved on. He picked up the salt bag on the way as well and the backpack he had lost when Daisy had attacked him and was now leading Sam toward the pantry.

"Where are you going?" Todd called after them.

Dean ignored him. He snatched open the door to the pantry, pushed Sam inside, followed him immediately and locked the door from inside. Then he spilled the salt on the floor, in front of the door and along the wall.

Old widow Daisy's spirit would have no way of coming in here, and no one would push Sam into danger again.

---SPN---

Dean wasn't sure how long they had been sitting inside the small storage room. It could have been ten minutes, one hour, or the whole night – he had completely lost track of time.

It had been completely dark in the pantry, so he had taken out his flashlight from his backpack. He always had certain necessities with him: some kind of candy should he (or Sam) get hungry, a pocket knife, a little bit of money and a card with emergency numbers (Bobby's and Pastor Jim's) just in case, and the flashlight – after a nasty blackout two years ago with a freaked out little brother he never left the house without it anymore. Relief had washed over him when the cone lighted the pantry.

Sam was quiet next to him. Dean could feel him shivering under the blanket. He had made sure that his brother was wearing warm clothes under his costume before they had left home, so he didn't think it was from the chilly air in the house. They heard noises from the other side of the door. First Todd's cries and then screams from both Todd and the spirit – it had made Dean's blood run cold. If it hadn't been for Sam sitting next to him, he would most likely have trembled all over as well. As it was, he had to appear strong, big brother duty.

"How you holding up, Sammy?" He asked quietly.

"I'm cold. When can we go home?"

"We'll have to stay a little while longer, Sammy." Dean replied, swallowing down the lump in his throat. The truth was he had no idea how much longer they had to wait. It had been quiet outside for some time now – five minutes, half an hour, Dean couldn't say. All he knew was it was quiet for the time being. But for how long? Daisy could sit outside, just waiting for them to feel safe and open the door. To just step over the salt line, right into her hands.

His hand went for the fire iron by his side – it was the only protection they had should the salt line fail. Just thinking about another battle made Dean's stomach churn.

Sam was so confident Dean would save them. Once they had been in the safety of the pantry and Daisy had stopped rumbling against the door, he had looked at him with wide eyes and snuggled close. His eyes closed as he felt perfectly safe next to his big brother, knowing Dean would protect him.

If only Sam knew how scared Dean really was. He hadn't saved them. He had led them into a trap. First he had been dumb enough to go into the house, and then hid in the pantry with no other exit.

He was acting like a coward, hiding instead of going up against the spirit and saving both his brother and Todd. He hoped the other boy had been smart enough to stay inside the salt circle. If he hadn't … Dean shivered at the thought of what Daisy might have done to him.

"You want to crawl under my blanket, Dean? It's warmer." Sam asked quietly.

Dean bit his lip. It wasn't Sam's job to look out for him! "I'm fine, Sammy. I'm not cold."

"But you're shakin'."

Dean closed his eyes, willing his body to stop shivering. He couldn't let Sam know he was scared.

"I'm fine, Sammy."

He wished his Dad were here. He would know what to do. He would have gotten rid of this ghost in no time. His father wouldn't hide in a pantry. He wouldn't be afraid. He would go up against Daisy without a moment of hesitation.

Dean hadn't actually seen his father hunt yet, but he was pretty sure, no, he _knew_ that his father excelled at it. He was perfect at everything. He had saved them from the fire that had taken their mother, and he hadn't let social services take them away. Most importantly, he hadn't separated him from Sam; he found them a home, over and over again, no matter how often they moved. Their dad protected them against everything evil in the world.

His father would have never simply hidden from the ghost.

Dean tightened his grip on the iron. He considered going out, opening the door, stepping over the salt line protecting them and call Daisy. He'd really save Sam and get them both out of this hell house.

But the moment passed and Dean still found himself sitting in the darkness of the pantry, unable to move.

He closed his eyes, forcing back the tears brimming in his eyes. If their Dad found out about this, he would be totally disappointed in him.

He felt Sam's head shift on his shoulder; letting go of the iron (_what use had it anyway if he wasn't brave enough to go out and up against Daisy?_) he gently stroked through his brother's hair.

"I'm tired." Sam sighed.

"I know." Dean said. He didn't know what else to say.

He wondered if their father was looking for them yet. Was he worried at all? It must already be long after six and their Dad would have tried to call in by now to check up on them. What would he do if they didn't answer? Come back? Search the area? Or continue with the hunt because he trusted Dean enough to take care of everything?

When this was over, his Dad would never trust him again.

"Dean, I feel funny." Sam said softly, the words sounded muffled as his head was buried in his brother's shoulder.

"What do you mean?" Dean asked concerned.

Sam stayed quiet and Dean nudged him gently. "Sammy?"

"Is the room spinning?"

"What?" Alarmed, Dean sat up and carefully turned so that he sat in front of his brother.

Sam looked up at him with weary eyes, blinking several times as if he had trouble focusing on Dean.

"Sam, what's wrong?" Dean tried to take a closer look at his brother which wasn't easy with only the small light of the flashlight. His eyes went to the door … if he opened it, he might get some light from the kitchen. Maybe it wasn't completely dark outside yet? His chest constricted and he breathed heavily at the mere thought of opening the door. He couldn't … if Daisy was still out there …

"Dean, I'm cold."

Dean felt how the shivers racking his little brother's body increased under his fingertips. Something was wrong.

"Sam, where do you hurt?" He asked.

"My side hurts." Sam whimpered.

"Why haven't you said anything?" Dean said, immediately regretting his words. Sam _had _said he was hurting, more than once. He had _seen_ the pain in his brother's eyes. Damn, he had even seen the blood on his costume!

"Sorry." Sam whispered, leaning forward against his brother, or maybe he was falling. Dean couldn't tell.

"No, I'm sorry, Sammy." He pressed out, swallowing down the lump in his throat.

He used the flashlight to inspect Sam's side – and froze when he saw the whole right side of the blanket was soaked with blood.

TBC


	4. Chapter 4

**A.N.: I'm so very sorry for the long wait until the next update to this story. I had planned to post all chapters before my US Trip, but unfortunately that didn't work out. When I got back, I was hit by a bad kind of jetlag while at the same time starting a new job right away. All that kept me away from fanfiction for way too long. The next chapter will be up in a few days, I promise. No long waits anymore. **

**Thanks to everyone who took the time to leave a review, your words made me very, very happy. And a big thank you to Youngest Ones Rule for beta'ing this story. **

* * *

Dean cursed himself for having ignored the signs. He had seen the blood on Sam's costume; it hadn't been much, not enough to worry about it, but he should have checked. He should have made sure Sam was okay!

Instead he'd let his own fears get the better of him, having thought only of finding a place to hide. Some big brother he was.

He put the end of the flashlight in his mouth and directed the beam at Sam's side. Gently, he lifted the blanket and the two pullovers Sam wore underneath. He winced when Sam whimpered as the fabric tore at the wound.

"Sorry, Sammy." Dean mumbled, almost incomprehensibly due to the flashlight. Somehow he knew Sam understood him. "I need to look at this."

"Don't …" Sam swatted at Dean's hand. "It hurts." He sobbed.

Dean cursed inwardly. How had he not noticed that his little brother was in pain? Holding up the clothes with one hand, he took the flashlight in the other. He couldn't listen to his brother's request. "Can you hold this up, Sammy? I need a free hand."

Nodding, but with a grimace on his face, Sam grabbed the fabric and held it up so Dean could take a closer look at the wound. There was a gash on Sam's right side; blood still flowed out of the lower half. He'd have to stop the bleeding before it was too late.

Dean rummaged through his backpack again, but could find nothing helpful. A first aid kit was what he needed now. Why had he never thought of packing a first aid kit?

"Dean, I'm c-cold." Sam said between clattering teeth. "Can I put my shirts down?"

"Just keep it up one more minute, Sammy." Dean said. He continually glanced at the contents of his pack and then back to his brother. He had an idea. Taking out his pocket knife, he grabbed a part of Sam's blanket and cut a long strip from of it.

"My costume!" Sam called out weakly.

"Keeping you alive and breathing is more important than a dumb costume, Sammy." Dean grumbled. "All I need is another stupid blanket. I'll make you another one."

Sam's eyes widened in fear. "Am I dying?"

Dean kicked himself inwardly. "No, of course not. You don't get to die on my watch." He wrapped the cloth tightly around Sam's waist.

"That hurts." Sam winced. "It's t-too tight."

"It has to be tight, Sammy. It'll stop the bleeding." Dean pulled a snug knot and then carefully pulled the pullovers and blanket back into place. "Okay, you're good." He took a deep breath, not able to stop the shivers racking his body anymore.

"You _are_ too c-cold." Sam said, looking triumphantly at his big brother – or as triumphantly as possible in his current state.

"Yeah, Sammy, I'm cold." Dean replied, forcing a smile to his face. It was better than admitting he was scared.

Sam snuggled closer to him, wincing slightly at the movement, and placed a part of the blanket over his brother's leg.

"Thanks, Sammy." Dean swallowed. He put his arm around Sam's shoulder and held him close.

"When can we go home?" Sam asked quietly after a moment.

"Soon, Sammy, soon."

---SPN---

John's fingers tapped impatiently on the table as he listened to the ringing of the phone, waiting for one of his sons to pick up on the other end. It had already rung six times – his boys were never that long in answering, especially when they knew he would be checking in.

There had once been a time in which Sam had believed the phone was evil and had refused to answer any calls or even go near it – John had never been able to prove it, but he was fairly certain it was something Dean had told him. Other than those few weeks though, both Sam and Dean mostly ran to pick up the phone when he called. He never had to wait longer than three rings.

The phone had rung ten times now and still no one answered. John cursed silently and glanced at his watch – 7:10 pm.

They should have long been home by now.

"JOHN!"

Startled, John looked up and stared at Travis Leroy, a fellow hunter and one of the few friends he had.

"What?" He asked dumbfounded, still hearing the ringing in his ear.

Fourteen times...

"I was saying how glad I am you're here to help me out because this spirit is a mean son of a bitch and I'm gonna need an extra hand." Travis smirked.

"It's no problem, you know that." John mumbled.

Seventeen times … John held the phone away from his ear, unable to admit what his gut was telling him.

Travis nodded. "Are you?"

"Am I what?"

"Are you here? Because you seem a bit absent-minded right now." Travis frowned.

Twenty times …

"My boys aren't answering the phone." John said hoarsely.

The smirk left Travis' face immediately. "You think something's wrong?"

John shrugged helplessly, struggling to admit his weakness.

Twenty-three times …

"They were out trick or treating. They were supposed to be back over an hour ago. Dean always makes sure they're back in time."

"They're boys, John … And it's Halloween. They probably lost track of time." Travis tried to calm him.

John shook his head. "No, something's wrong. I can feel it."

Travis frowned. "John, this spirit is going to kill another innocent tonight."

John looked at him apologizing. "They're my boys, Travis. I can't …"

Travis sighed deeply then nodded. "I get it. Go … you've helped me a lot with the research. I got this."

"You sure?" John asked hesitantly.

"Go check on your sons, John. Family always comes first."

John didn't need to hear more. He grabbed his duffel and keys and ran out of the house toward the Impala.

---SPN---

"Thirty plus Four."

"Dean, I'm tired." Sam complained, his voice sounding too different from his normal voice for Dean's liking. Sam sounded weak, tired and cold. Worse, he sounded hurt and scared.

Dean couldn't think of any way he could fail worse as a big brother.

"You can't sleep, Sammy. Come on, you know this." Dean urged him. "You had 'em all right so far. Thirty plus four."

Sam sighed loudly and for a moment Dean thought he was going to be ignored, but then he saw his brother looking intently at his fingers, silently counting.

"Thirty-four."

"Excellent… You got another one." Dean smiled. Sam couldn't see it in the darkness. The flashlight was dying and only gave enough light for him to look at his hands, but Dean was sure his brother could hear the smile in his voice. Sam's smile always carried in his voice. "Okay, here's the next: Thirty-four plus six."

There was another small pause before Sam replied hesitantly. "Forty?"

Their father didn't allow answers that sounded more like a question and usually Dean followed his example, but Sam was hurt and they were trapped in a pantry with an evil, murderous spirit waiting on the other side. Their Dad was two towns away; he figured it was okay to let it slide for now. He wasn't trying to teach Sam math anyway – he just needed to keep him awake and distract him from thinking too much about Daisy or the pain he was in.

"That's right, Sammy." He said proudly. "Now, forty plus three."

"Forty-three." The answer came immediately.

"And right again." Dean grinned, hoping it would look real. Or at least sound real.

"I didn't even use my fingers." Sam said proudly.

"You're a math genius, Sammy, I always knew it. Forty-three plus five. I betcha can't do that one."

Sam went back to his fingers, once more silently counting.

"Fortyei..."

A terrifying scream pierced through the darkness, immediately silencing Sam. Dean felt the blood freezing in his veins.

Old widow Daisy was back for sure.

"Dean." Sam whispered, snuggling impossibly closer to his brother.

Dean put his arm back around Sam's shoulders, holding him while at the same time reaching for the fire iron. It had been quiet for so long now, Dean had almost hoped maybe she had disappeared back to whatever awful place she had come from.

A shot suddenly rang through the darkness, silencing Daisy's wail. It was immediately replaced by another scream - sounding more earthly than Daisy and as terrified as Dean felt.

Todd was still out there too. A wave of relief washed over Dean at the knowledge the other boy was still alive. He hated the jerk, but he didn't want him dead. Least of all did he want anyone dying on his watch.

"What was that?" Sam asked in a whispered voice.

"I don't know." Dean replied hoarsely. It had sounded like a gun shot, a shot fired from one of the shotguns his Dad had let him use during training.

He knew his mind had to be playing tricks on him though. Their Dad wasn't even in town, so it couldn't have been him … Could it?

"Dean? Sam?"

He felt Sam grab his arm tightly.

Their dad's voice… John Winchester himself! Dean's heart thundered. He couldn't quite believe what he was hearing.

Could it be? Could it really be him?

"Dean, is that ...?"

Some spirits can mimic human voices. His father had taught him that; but how would the spirit know what his father sounded like? Could they read minds too? He tried to remember everything his Dad had ever told him about spirits. It was all a jumble now and he wasn't sure. He wasn't sure!

"Sammy! Dean! Are you here?"

"Dean, it's Dad!" Sam called out excitedly, already trying to scramble to his feet. He swayed at the movement and Dean tried to hold him back.

They couldn't be sure. They didn't know if it was really their dad. What if ... _what if_!

When their father's voice called for them again, Sam managed to break free from Dean's grip and scrambled forward. Like in slow motion, Dean watched as Sam pushed open the door and crawled over the protective salt line. When he heard Sam call for their dad, he tried again to hold him back. He wanted to reach for him, pull him back to where he was safe but he couldn't move. He was frozen to the floor, watching his brother leave the protection of the circle and vanish from his view.

The shivers he had suppressed all evening came with a vengeance and racked his body. He was unable to move.

TBC


	5. Chapter 5

**A.N.: Thank you all for reading and a special thanks to those of you who took the time to leave a review. Your words and feedback mean so much to me! A big thank you to Youngest Ones Rule for beta'ing this story. She has been doing a fantastic job! **

**I wish you all happy holidays! **

* * *

During the drive home, John thought of all the possibilities that could have prevented his sons from answering the phone. None of them were acceptable.

They could have fallen asleep in front of the TV after eating too much candy. He remembered the last time he had taken Dean out trick-or-treating, just a few days before …

His little boy had been dressed up as a cowboy. Once they had returned home, he and Dean had made themselves comfortable in front of the TV, stuffing as much candy in their mouths as possible. He could still hear Dean's giggles as he grabbed for the biggest candy bars in the bag and could see Mary's disapproving look at him – it had been betrayed however, by the smile playing on her lips. She had tried hard to hide it from him. Dean had fallen asleep in his arms that night and John had dozed off and on as well.

It was possible his boys had spent the night like this - possible, but not very likely. Dean always made sure to stay up until John called. He had _never _fallen asleep before.

Course, he'd never taken Sam out trick-or-treating before either.

Maybe they had run into friends and had been invited to their home?

When John was a kid, he had spent every Halloween at his best friend's house. Did his sons even have best friends? Had they been here long enough for that? He wasn't sure about Dean, the boy had never mentioned anyone, but Sam had talked about a few friends he had made in school. He had never spent any time with them outside of school though. His sons' free time was always spent together.

Maybe, this once, Sam had chosen to visit one of his friends and Dean had gone with him. It was Halloween, after all. It wasn't likely Dean would have agreed to it though, not when he knew that John expected them to be home at a certain time.

Whatever had kept his boys from being home to answer his call, it was nothing they would have done voluntarily.

They could be hurt. A car accident maybe - or something worse.

Hundreds of ways his sons could have gotten hurt ran through his mind. Monsters, spirits, zombies, ghouls, psychotic killers – Halloween attracted all kinds of dangerous beings. He should have never allowed his sons to leave the house in his absence. He should have never left! If he had acted like a _father _just this once …

When he got home and found the house empty, his worst fears seemed to be confirmed. His sons had never returned home from their Halloween trip. There were no candy wrappers to be seen, no signs indicating that his sons had come back. He didn't waste any time waiting for them to _maybe_ suddenly show up. It was already after nine. If his boys were alright, Dean would have made sure his little brother was tucked in bed by now.

He ran out of the house and jumped back into the Impala, beginning his frantic search of the streets. Most kids had already returned to their homes; if his boys were somewhere outside, it shouldn't be hard to see them. As he drove through the neighborhoods, he tried to remember any places his sons had talked about since moving here. They had gone to the park a few times; Sam loved the playground there. Every Saturday they went to the theater; John had accompanied them once, but sitting around for two hours and watching movies suitable for children hadn't been his favorite way to spend his time. He had taken them to a diner a few streets away a few times. Both boys liked it there; the waitress always spoiled them rotten whenever they came in and the food was pretty decent. However Dean wouldn't have taken his brother to any of these places at this hour.

What else was there?

Then he remembered his conversation with Sam right before he left; the story about some old widow who was supposed to be haunting a house somewhere between the school and their apartment. Dean had told him the same story weeks ago; John had made a quick check on it, but had found out there was nothing to it. He hadn't expected to find anything either.

Had he overlooked something? If his boys had gone in there … If the story was true … Shivers ran down his spine and John cursed under his breath as he tried to remember the address.

Lincoln Avenue! That had been it. He'd checked the address for any unsolved murders. He hadn't found anything, but he had only checked the last ten years. What if he'd missed something?

Five minutes later he stood in front of the abandoned house at 65 Lincoln Avenue, using his axe to get through the door which wouldn't open, no matter what he tried.

He didn't need any more proof than that to know something was wrong.

Once he was inside, everything happened fast. An unearthly wail pierced the darkness and a moment later a ghostly figure appeared before him, racing toward him. John raised his shotgun, fired at the spirit, and watched it dissipate in front of him.

Another scream echoed off the walls of the old house and John's heart dropped to his stomach.

"Dean? Sam?" He called loudly, running down the hall.

He came to a sudden stop when he reached the kitchen and saw a hunched over boy sitting in the middle of a salt circle, screaming his lungs out. He quickly walked up to him and grabbed his shoulders.

"Hey, calm down. Calm down!" He barked and the boy immediately stilled.

With wide, scared eyes he looked at John.

"You're alone in here?" John asked, getting right down to business. The salt circle alone was all the answer he really needed.

The boy shook his head.

"Where are they?" John asked, his heart beating wildly in his chest. His boys were here, he knew it.

The boy merely stared as if he didn't understand the question. John could see he was in shock – watching a vengeful spirit attacking could do that to a person, much less a child. He'd never understand how people could be so stupid as to walk into a house they were sure, or even thought was haunted. They should know better.

Dean knew better. Yet he was now sure his son had come into this house, with Sammy at his side, as always.

"Sammy! Dean! Are you here?" He called loudly, hoping to receive an answer this time. "SAM? DEAN?"

A moment later a door at the other end of the kitchen flew open and John saw his youngest stumbling toward him. A wave of relief washed over him as he leapt forward, dropped down and slung his arms around his boy.

"Daddy!" Sam sobbed, burying his head onto the larger, stronger shoulder.

"Sammy, are you all right? Where's Dean?" He gently moved Sam back a few inches to get a good look at him. He was pale and trembling all over. When John spotted the blood on his costume, his heart skipped a beat. "God Sammy, what …"

He carefully lifted up the blanket and clothes Sam was wearing. He noted the cloth that was wrapped around his son's waist and the blood that had already soaked through it.

"It's okay, Dad, D-Dean took care of-of it." Sam said, still half-sobbing and with tears rolling down his cheeks. He quickly wiped them away with the back of his hand as if he was afraid his Dad would see them.

"Where's Dean, Sammy?" John asked while getting out of his jacket and wrapping it around his son to warm him.

"In there." Sam pointed towards the pantry from whence he came.

John looked at the open door, not able to see anything in the darkness. Fear washed over him – if Dean was in there, why hadn't he come out yet? He had taken care of his brother – had he been able to do the same for himself? Had he been hurt too badly? Was he too late?

"Dean?" He called. He lifted Sam up in his arms and quickly walked toward the small pantry.

---SPN---

Dean sat quivering in the pantry, safe behind the salt. The flashlight lay on his lap, lighting the spot where Sam had been just a moment ago.

Sam, who had just gone out toward their dad's voice.

Sam, who didn't know that there were things out there that could you trick into believing it was safe to follow a voice.

Sam, who Dean had vowed to protect!

He wanted to run after him so badly, but his body refused to move. His mind screamed to get up, leave the pantry and save his brother, but the fear he felt deep down made him stay.

Desperation washed over him as he thought about what might be happening to Sam at this moment. He hadn't heard anything, no painful screams, just Sam calling for their dad and murmurs from the darkness, words spoken two quiet for him to understand.

Then his father's voice again … calling his name!

There was fear in that voice – what more proof did he need to know this couldn't be their father? John Winchester was never afraid, of anything!

Not like his son, who couldn't even get up to save his brother.

He heard steps coming closer quickly and without thinking, he raised the fire iron.

Daisy had his brother; he was sure of it. Why else had she only called for him? Called for him with his dad's voice! A violent anger replaced the fear he had held in every fiber and Dean jumped up and ran out of the pantry, growling angrily and holding the iron in front of him to pierce the spirit. This bitch wouldn't keep his brother, not again!

"Dean!"

His father's voice called out, surprised and angry and a hand grabbed his arm, holding it firmly. Dean screamed in frustration and tried to pull free, but the hand remained unyielding on his arm.

"Dean, damn it, snap out of it!" John barked again.

Dean blinked and for the first time really looked at the figure that had approached the pantry.

His Dad! With Sammy in his arms!

All fight rushed out of his body and he dropped the iron on the ground.

"D-dad?" He stammered.

"It's okay, son." John shifted Sam to one side and put his freed arm around Dean and pulled him into a short, quick hug. "Are you hurt?"

Dean shook his head, still having trouble grasping that his dad was really here. He could feel him, touch him, smell the familiar scent that was his father. No spirit could duplicate that.

"Sam's hurt." He eventually choked out.

"I know. You took good care of him, son." John gave Dean's shoulder a quick squeeze, before he let go of him.

Dean immediately missed the contact, the reassurance everything would be okay, that they were safe now.

"Come on! Let's get out of here before she comes back."

---SPN---

Dean didn't say anything when Todd climbed into the passenger seat of the Impala. That was his spot, but right now he wanted to stay at Sam's side, making sure his brother was okay. As they left the house, he hadn't even really been aware Todd was with them.

When their father carefully placed Sam on the backseat, Dean immediately put his arm around him, holding him close. Sam snuggled gratefully into the embrace and placed his head on his shoulder.

"Can I sleep now, Dean?" He mumbled, already half asleep.

Dean exchanged a glance with his dad and after receiving a short nod, he told Sam it was okay. He felt the tension slowly leave his body when Sam breathed out in relief and fully closed his eyes. He was asleep within moments.

It didn't take long for the familiar rumble of the Impala and the sound of Sam's rhythmic breathing to make Dean feel drowsy. He struggled to stay awake; he wanted to be alert to protect Sammy. He wasn't going to fail his little brother again. His eyelids grew heavier with each passing block and when they stopped in front of Todd's house, he allowed himself to close his eyes, just for a second.

When he opened them again, he saw hands grabbing for his brother, pulling Sam away from him.

"No!" He yelled, jerking up and beating at the hands near his brother.

"Dean! Dean, it's okay, it's okay!"

Dean then recognized his dad's voice and immediately stilled. Blushing, he noticed the hands belonged to his dad.

"Sorry." He mumbled. It seemed he couldn't do anything right tonight.

"Let's get inside." John said.

He took Sam in his arms and carried him out of the car and to the house. It was only then that Dean noticed they were home. Dean quickly scrambled out of the car and followed his family. Once inside, he closed the door behind him, shutting everything evil out.

They were finally safe.

He watched how their dad carefully laid Sam on the couch and checked on his wound. He swallowed when he saw the blood soaked cloth he had used to stop the bleeding. Another thing he had failed to do.

He thought he'd been doing things right.

He sat down at the end of the couch and gently stroked Sam's hair while their dad took care of the wound. Dean inwardly flinched every time his father touched the wound, but Sam was blessedly unaware of everything around him, still soundly asleep.

"Will he be okay?"

"Of course." John smiled at him hastily before returning to Sam.

When he had finally finished dressing the wound, he turned his full attention to Dean.

"Are you hurt?"

"No, I'm fine." Dean shook his head. He was still trembling slightly, but wasn't sure if it was from the cold, exhaustion or because he was still totally freaked out about everything that had happened that night. He knew he needed to pull himself together to prove to his dad that he had things under control. That he was fine.

"The spirit didn't hurt you?" John inquired. "You're moving pretty stiffly. Why don't you let me check you over?"

"I'm fine, Dad, really." Dean whispered. He pressed his hands firmly together, willing his body to just stop trembling!

"It wasn't really a question, son." John smiled. "Come on, pull up your shirt."

Dean did as he was told, slowly lifting up his shirt; his shivers increased when the cold air hit with his exposed skin. He heard his father breathe in sharply.

"That's gotta hurt." John mumbled sympathetically. "There's a pretty bad bruise on your back. The spirit threw you through the air?"

Dean nodded, not daring to look at his father's eyes. He didn't want to see the disappointment in them.

"Happens to the best. I'll get you some ice and then I'll tug you to bed. You both need your rest."

Dean looked up at him in surprise. His father didn't sound disappointed. _Happens to the best? _"Did you ever …. I mean …"

"Get slammed around a few times? More often than I'd like, son. There's not much you can do about it."

"It got Sam." Dean pressed out.

John nodded. "But you saved him."

Dean shook his head vehemently. "I let her get him. I didn't get us out. I …"

"You did everything you could, Dean. You did good. Of course …" John looked sternly at his son. "You know you should have never gone into that house."

Dean froze. "I know, Sir."

"What where you thinking?"

"I … I thought it was safe. You said … I thought …" Dean's eyes dropped down. "I'm sorry."

His dad remained quiet and Dean braced himself for what was to come. He'd never be allowed to look after Sam again, he knew that. He had screwed up so badly.

He jumped when a blanket was placed over his shoulders and his father's hand ruffled his hair.

"I'm sorry too, Dean."

Surprised, Dean looked up at him. "What for?"

"You thought the house was safe because I told you it was. I should have checked better. I screwed up."

"I shouldn't have gone in there anyway."

"No, you shouldn't have." John agreed sternly.

They sat in silence for a while, both turning their gazes from each other to watch the youngest member of their family sleep. Eventually, John got up and carefully lifted Sam into his arms to carry him into the boys' room. Sam never woke up.

"Come on, time to go to bed." He urged Dean to follow.

After a moment of simply staring at his dad's back, seeing Sam's feet dangle off to the side, Dean got up and walked into the bedroom he shared with his brother.

---SPN---

John watched his sons sleeping peacefully.

He had come so close tonight to losing them both. He had screwed up when he hadn't believed the story both his boys had told him about Daisy. He wasn't the only guilty party. He knew Dean blamed himself for what happened tonight and as much as it pained him to see his son hurting, he believed this had been a good lesson for him to learn. His eldest would never again go into an empty house unprepared.

He hadn't told him, but he was proud of Dean. Not only had he kept Sam safe, he had known exactly what to do. Staying safe inside the salt circle and using the fire iron as a weapon against Daisy – Dean had done everything John had taught him. Dean had learned the lessons well despite his age. Once he was old enough, he would make the perfect hunter.

Casting a last glance at his sons, John dragged himself from the room. He still had to take care of the spirit. He wouldn't let Daisy get her hands on anyone else ever again. When he had checked the story, back when Dean had first told him about it, he had also looked up where Daisy Hacky was buried. A quick salt and burn would take care of business and he'd be back before either of his boys would wake up.

And when they did, he would make up for his mistake.

He had the bedroom door almost shut behind him, when he heard Sam's small voice call for him. Hastily, he slipped back into the room, a glance telling him Dean hadn't woken up. That alone told him how exhausted his eldest must be; Dean usually always woke to Sam's calls, too many nightmares disturbing his youngest's sleep had proven that.

"What is it, Sammy?" He asked in a whispered voice.

"Daddy? Are we home?"

John swallowed a lump in his throat. "Yeah, you're home. How're you feeling?"

"My side hurts." He whimpered.

John gently stroked his hand through Sam's hair. He wished he could give his son something against the pain. He had a few medications for children in the med kit, but no pain relievers suitable for children.

"Try to get back to sleep, Sammy. It'll be better in the morning."

"Promise?"

"Promise." John smiled. His first stop after the visit to the cemetery would be at the pharmacy to get pain relievers for his sons. He should have done this long ago. Tears were brimming in his eyes. It was in situations like these that he missed Mary the most. She would have been prepared for this, would have had everything at hand to take their children's pain away. He cursed himself inwardly for not being stronger than this. His children meant the world to him and to see them suffering … it was even worse knowing he was partly responsible. If only he had checked the house more thoroughly… If only he had never left tonight… If only he had been more alert that fateful night six years ago …

"Dad …" Sam's voice sounded hesitant. "There was a ghost in that house."

John froze. He didn't want this conversation. He couldn't … not now, not after tonight.

"Did you see it?" Sam asked.

John nodded, not able to form any words at the moment.

"Ghosts are real." Sam said quietly. It wasn't a question.

"Yes, it seems they are." John replied hoarsely.

"Did you know?"

John's heart broke in that moment. What was he supposed to say? Sam was six years old. He was too young to learn the truth. He didn't … he couldn't … He had already forced Dean to grow up way before his time; he couldn't do the same to Sam.

He just couldn't.

"I didn't know there was a ghost in that house, Sammy. If I had known … if I had thought you and Dean were in danger … I would have never left. You know that, right?"

Sam looked thoughtfully at him; for a moment John was afraid that he would call him a liar. He didn't think he'd survive that tonight.

"Dean was there. He fought Daisy and saved us." A proud smile appeared on Sam's lips, followed by a yawn.

It didn't go unnoticed by John. "Get back to sleep, Sammy. We don't want to wake your brother."

"Okay." Sam snuggled deeper under the blanket until it was pulled up to his nose. "Too bad we lost all the candy." He mumbled as his eyes fell closed. A few moments later he was deep asleep.

John watched him with a broken heart, wanting nothing more than to go back in time and never leave his boys alone.

---SPN---

"Dean. Dean, wake up."

Dean groaned and tried to move away from the hand shaking his arm.

"Dean, wake up!"

When the blanket was pulled away, Dean finally opened his eyes. He saw Sam sitting on the edge of the bed, looking at him with a broad smile. His face was painted with white make up and he wore his ghost costume from yesterday.

"Happy Halloween." Sam grinned.

Dean's eyes widened and he was certain he had gone crazy over night. "What are you talking about?"

"Come on." Sam took his hand and pulled him out of bed. Dean winced when he got up, proving his injury from last night was still there. Sam's costume was free of blood though.

What the hell was going on?

"Good Morning." John greeted him when he and Sam entered the kitchen. The scent of fresh baked – and slightly burned – pancakes hung in the air.

"Sit down and enjoy your breakfast." John smiled.

Dean hesitated a moment and looked confusedly between his father and brother.

"Don't you have to go back to Travis?"

"No." John shook his head. "I talked to him about an hour ago. He got rid of the spirit with no problems. He was just too lazy to do the research on his own." He added with a grin.

"Dad made me a new costume." Sam cut in proudly, waving his arms to show his brother.

Dean was sure he must have misunderstood. "What?"

Sam smiled widely and John shrugged sheepishly. "You boys deserve a real Halloween."

"We have candy too." Sam added grinning.

"Candy?" Dean asked perplexed.

"I bought some on my way back from … "John stopped himself before he said too much. "I bought some this morning. I also rented a few movies."

"We can watch TV all day and eat as much candy as we want and Dad will be home all day." Sam cheered excited. "This will be the best Halloween ever."

A sudden memory of him and his dad sitting in front of the TV stuffing candy in their mouths flashed through Dean's mind. It was followed by a warm feeling which spread through his body and for some reason his vision blurred and his eyes felt wet.

"Don't you want that?" Sam asked disappointed.

Dean wiped his hand over his eyes and a smile spread over his face. "I want this." He leaned over and jabbed at a pancake. "It sounds perfect."

"I thought you might like it." John smiled. "Now sit down. The pancakes will get cold."

The end.


End file.
